Blinded By Aspiration
by Writing-Assassin
Summary: A teenaged boy from District 7, Captain Tyson, volunteers for the 72nd National Hunger Games for a good cause. Will this risky decision prove successful in the end, or will it mean death for the young boy?
1. Chapter 1

_I love you . . ._

_And the winner of the 72nd National Hunger Games is . . ._

_"This isn't giving up, this is letting go . . ." -This is Letting Go by Rise Against_

[ C h a p t e r 1 ]

The reflection stared him dead in the eyes, water trickling down his face. To Captain, this was just another ordinary day. Wake up, wash up, eat the breakfast your guardian has put out for you, then head off to work, because, here, in District 7, that was all there was to live for. It was a boring cycle. Captain had been working officially in the lumber yard since he could remember. The knobs on the aged, metallic sink squeeled as the teenager twisted the water off. He groped for the nearby cloth, which could be described as a sweat rag, and wiped his face clean. It couldn't have been earlier than five-thirty in the morning, and they were already chiming the waking bell. In all reality, this was no ordinary day. It was Reaping Day, most feared it, some were not bothered by it. Captain, on the other hand, did not care for it. He knew the odds of him getting reaped were less than likely, but this year. This year was going to be different...

Captain waltzed over to a wooden dresser, hand-carved by his father who had a little too much time on his hands sometimes. The dresser creeked as the boy pulled open the top drawer, reaching in blindly for a tank top and pants, something to get him passed breakfast this morning. He knew he would later have to find something especially nice for Reaping Day. The lamp stood alone on his bedside table, and did not provide much light, causing Captain to fumble around when he opened the second drawer, searching now for pants to slip on. Because it got humid and sticky at night, the teenager went to bed shirtless, in his boxers which varied in style. Tossing the tanktop to the twin-sized bed not even ten full feet away from him, he struggled to get the faded, worn blue jeans on. They were stained with sawdust, and the pants had obvious holes in them. It was nothing Captain could help.

He then reached for his black leather belt, and looped it through the hoops on the waist of his pants, when his father had entered the room.

"Mornin', Cap."

Arik was an older man, and his tone spoke true to his age. He was warped physically, but was as young and as childish as ever psychologically. Captain buckled the belt, then looked up at his father with a faint smile, "Morning, dad." he was tired, and it should have been obvious to anyone. It felt as though he'd gotten no sleep that night. This day was going to be long, and hard, "How long have you been up?" The elder man was now leaning against the wooden door frame, his arms crossed across his chest, caloused hands tucked beneath his arms, which pronounced the bicep muscles, "Since five. I didn't sleep well." Captain turned away from his father to reach for the hunter green tank top that was sprawled across the bed. Throwing it on over his head before turning back to his father, who was in mid yawn, "Early bird...It's because of the Reaping, isn't it?" _Obviously..._ Captain gave a shrug, standing there now with his hands in his pants pockets, "I guess." The boy was not much of a talker in the morning, and moments like this, on Reaping Day, every conversation seemed like your last, and it just felt so awkward. A pounding in your chest, you don't want to argue, because it may be the last fight you will ever have with a sibling or parent. You don't want to leave someone after arguing with them.

For Captain, this would all prove true. His parents had no idea what he would be pulling today at the Reaping. His parents have recently brought home a wonderful baby girl named Mallisomn, but there was something wrong. She was deathly ill from birth, and the procedure to nurse his new little sister back to health was very, very expensive, and required a trip to the Capitol. Mallisomn is two months at this point, and has only grown progressively worse. It killed Captain to have to hear his little sister cry in agony because she found it so hard to grasp air at night, listening to his mother weep, she was afraid to lose Mallisomn, as was his father. That was when the baby began crying, bawling from her crib. Captain averted silver eyes out the window, staring at the moon that was setting, attempting to ignore Mallisomn's crying. He loved her, he truly did, but craddling her pained him so much, she never stopped crying until she fell asleep. She was only growing worse, so he was going to volunteer as Tribute. He had to, there was no choice. He needed the money more than anyone in District 7. He had to win, he had to save Mallisomn. Arik walked away to tend to the girl, while his mother could be heard in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

Once Captain had his logger boots tied to his feet, like deadweights straped to your ankle, is how a newbie logger would describe the heaviness of the boots. However, Captain had built up enough muscle in his calves and could lift the shoes fairly easily now. Walking casually into the kitchen, Jordy; his mother, was attempting to feed baby Mallisomn, while Arik had taken over the stove, "She's not taking the bottle so easily now, Arik." She whispered, trying to rock the child into downing some of the formula. Mallisomn gave the occasional whimper and jerked her head away from the nipple of the bottle, "I don't know what we're going to do, sweetheart." Captain's father replied in a hopeless tone, pulling the skillet off the stove and setting it aside, turning to face his wife.

The teenager approached the small fridge, growling and flipping the light on, casting a long silhouette when the boy opened the door. Captain reached in for a bottle of water. Particularly quiet this morning, he was afraid to tell his parents that he was willingly volunteering as Tribute, he was afraid of their reaction, that they might make some excuse to keep him from going. It was all they needed, to have no children by the time the National Hunger Games were up. Because surely, if he doesn't win, Mallisomn will die, as well as Captain being gone. It was a win and lose situation here, everything can go wrong or right with one swift thought. Soft rays of orange casted across the lumber yard, and people began to emerge from their huts, offering baked goods for breakfast, such as bread and cheese, or milk and various combinations of plants and grain. Black boots crunched against the dirt pathway as Captain made his journey to the rear of their cabin. A small box stall rested at the end of the yard, inside was a mule, a cross between a horse and a donkey, the creatures often used for lumber work because of the weight they can pull. Fresco was one of the many mules used to pull lumber back to the yard, but they were also used as transportation. Captain remembered the day he got him, too. It was only three years ago, on his fifteenth birthday. This was also the age where Captain was actually allowed to begin using mules to help bring lumber back down. Fresco had a scarf around his neck, it was tied up to look like a bow. Fresco, at first, was not accepting of domestication, as he was bred and never really handled. So when Captain got a hold of him, he was jumpy, not only that, but he was young and needed training. Every chance the fifteen year old got, would be spent with Fresco, and now at four and seventeen years, it was almost hard to separate the two.

Fresco popped his head through the window in his stall when he heard Captain approach. He could not be in the same room with Mallisomn crying like that. Heart wrenching...The teenager scratched Fresco's snout before reaching for the harness and slipping it on with ease, "I'm sure you got a better nights rest, huh Fres." Captain cooed to the mule, attaching a lead rope to the harness. By this point, the water he'd grabbed from the fridge was sitting on the sil of the box stall, wavering as the door was opened, Fresco exiting without hesitation. The grass beneath his hooves must have felt welcoming, "I swear, Captain, you hang around with that mule more than me sometimes!" came the all too familiar, womanly voice. It was Shurshire, a carpenter. She was clad in jean overalls, golden brown boots and a white t-shirt beneath the overalls. She trotted over and her golden blonde hair danced in the morning breeze. Fresco began to nibble on a stray patch of grass while Captain's wrists were pressed to his waist, "That's only because you come around when I'm spending quality time with my mule." He offered a joyful smile, and Shurshire only kicked dust in his direction.

"Always so violent..."

The boy grinned, approaching a hitching post and tying up Fresco before walking into the tack shed to retrieve a brush, the teenaged girl following him, "I didn't even touch you!" She proceeded to playfully punch Captain in the shoulder, causing him to whirl around, dropping the brush in the process, in a dramatic manner of course. He instinctivly reached for the shoulder she hit. Granted Shurshire did not hit him hard at all, and he could take far more than a punch to the shoulder, he was joking around with her! "That time you did!" Captain then bent over to pick up the brush he'd dropped, when the teenaged girl returned the grin. Deviously lifting her foot in a swift motion, aiming for his rear which caused the boy to fall face first on the dirt flooring of the shed. He was not having a very clean morning, "That wasn't fair!" Captain called up to her, bringing the brush with him as he stood. Sweeping the dust from his tank top with his hand, before setting the brush on a wooden table, "Life isn't fair!" Shurshire shot back at him, her hands now on her waist, and her smile mimicked his own. Though, Captain being Captain, he could not help but break his partially serious expression and tackle Shurshire to the ground, where he pinned her by her shoulders, "And I can't help but to agree with you there, Shire...But fairness is not on your side today." The boy snickered, showing no sign of removing himself at the moment, "Oh ya?" The smirk that crawled across her fine features had almost scared Captain away, but he could not find himself getting up and moving at the moment, then Arik appeared around the corner of the house.

"Cap, come inside. Reaping is in a little bit and your mother says you're a fat mess."

Captain glanced up at his father as he spoke and nodded his head before turning silver eyes to Shurshire, "I'll get you later." Rising to stand, he helped the teenaged girl rise, but she didn't let go of his hand, "Fine then, lumber boy." Shurshire allowed her nose to come within inches of Captain's, before turning away and jogging off, her ponytail flying behind her. It was funny, they had both practically grew up with each other, Captain met Shire when they were five and seven. Ten years later, their relationship was brotherly and sisterly.

Captain wanted that to change...

Wandering into the house, he' given Fresco a quick brush down and supplied the mule with feed. This morning, the yard was silent. Nothing much was really going on, only people moving to trade and get daily tasks finished before Reaping. Because the Reaping required everyone from every District to be present in their designated areas, unless you were practically sucking your last breaths, no new projects were started until after the ceremony. As soon as Captain walked into the cabin, he was immediately confronted by his mother, who seemed to be successful in getting Mallisomn down into bed after getting maybe a few sips of formula in her system. Arik was more than likely taking up residence in the restroom, "Look at you, you're such a mess!" Jordy scoffed, shaking her head with balled fists balancing on her tiny waist. The dress she was wearing made her look a lot thinner than she actually was, as well. The apron around her hips, tied in the back carelessly gave her the appearence of a hourglass. She looked like a cook, too. This was not how she normally dressed. Jordy was still in the process of getting ready for the Reaping herself, "I'm not that much of a mess." Captain rose his palms innocently, covered in mud and dirt, he also smelled like a mule. Jordy shook her head, "Go wash up, please. You need to be presentable." The woman turned away, moving to her little corner, where she kept pictures of her mother, her father, and her favorite pet dog that had passed away several years ago, all set neatly on a fine grain vanity. Captain rolled his head to the left, then to the right, popping the bone in his neck in the process before waltzing down the hallway.

Although everyone appeared to be putting up a cheery front, they were afraid inside. Afraid their child, best friend, brother or sister, was going to be picked at complete and total random for the Games. Captain was feeling the knot form in his stomach now, as well. The clock ticked by, and with each coming second, the Reaping hour came closer and closer...

Black hair was dampened by the quick wash-up, but Captain had figured it would be dry by the time they reached the designated Reaping stage. The boy chose to wear one of his nicer t-shirts, and an unmarked pair of dark gray-blue jeans. The sleeves on his shirt had come down and bunched at his elbows, almost thankful is a was light shade of gray, it would reflect the blazing sun which was reaching brutal temperatures. Lack of variety of shoes, he ended up wearing his work boots. His sneakers were far passed unexceptable, and barefoot was truly out of the question. When returning to the den area, both Arik and Jordy were seated on the couch, craddling baby Mallisomn.

By the time Arik, Jordy, Captain and baby Mallisomn had reached where this years' Reaping was being held, it was already packed full of waiting loggers, carpenters, exporters. Various people, with various jobs. All from District 7, waiting to hear the fate of those around them. Whose names were going to be drawn today? Everyone stood organized in row after row. The parents were separated from their children, the ones who were still eligible to be drawn from the two glass bowls of doom. Twice to his left was Shureshire, over the talking, she could not hear Captain calling to her, and no one beside him seemed to care to help get her attention. It was not their fault, though. They were more than likely lost in their thoughts and worries, or stuck on conversations with other District 7 individuals. Waiting always took forever, they always wanted to make sure everyone in Panem had their undevided attention, focused on the Reaping, and were all in attendance.

The faces of those around him, Captain could read what some of these potential Tributes were thinking... _Am I going to be Reaped? What's going to happen to my family..._ or even things such as, _I won't be able to do this, I'll be dead the first minute of the Games!_ But Captain, he stood there, once he realized trying to get Shurshire's attention proved futile. Totally and completely thoughtless.

Captain was growing aggitated after fifteen minutes of standing in the complex that was just big enough to occupy all the District 7 families or stray individuals. Then the mayor, Orbenkleine, stepped up onto a stone platform, wide enough to be called a stage. It was elevated off the ground by two feet, and supported by some of the strongest wood District 7 had to provide. The scene behind Mayor Orbenkleine seemed all too peaceful for todays occasion. The trees stretched high above his head, towering over the stage. The man stood at a cedar oak podium, on either side of the wooden object were two glass bowls. Papers full to the brim with peoples' names, including Captains. Mayor Orbenkleine was fairly up in age, but still a rather bright man. Like the rings in the trunk of a chopped down tree, the crevices of his long, warped face told his age. He had deep, dark brown hair, speckled with gray and strands of white, and eyes so dark, they appeared black some times. In a certain light, you could tell they were brown, "It's that day again, Reaping Day. Where we all fear for ourselves, one another, family and lovers..." Orbenkleine attempted to lighten up everyone's mood, he could read every single face that stood before him, no one was smiling, this was no time for happiness, joyousness. Everyone's heart was pounding, and Captain could hear his own. He thought it was going to shoot out of his chest. Oh yes, the nervousness had caught up with him, and now he was regretting not having a meal this morning, or even something small to snack on, because he felt like he was going to vomit. Whether they called his name or not, the teenaged boy would be entering that ring with a fifty/fifty chance of winning and losing.

Orbenkleine had started explaining what the Hunger Games was actually about, as if no one had a clue. The boy, for sure, could recite the exact happenings, in the exact order they had come in, the reasons for the Games. The cruel Games. No one was a friend, an ally. It was kill, or be killed. But there was far more than just killing one person, no, this would be twenty-four other people, including Captain himself. It was him, a logger from District 7, whose only positives were his upper body strength, and the power he had to weild an axe.

The Hunger Games was just a cruel; harsh, and to Captain, an _unneccessary reminder of what happened to the land before it formed into Panem._ The Hunger Games was a _pointless way to keep its District individuals from rebelling once more against the Capitol_. His views on the Games were lowly, he thought the entire thing was a_ giant waste of time!_ It was dumb, he little understood how the Capitol could think a murder game would keep Panem's citizens from rebelling against them. One winner each year, but they usually came home mentally scarred and ruined. There had been quite a few psychologically altered individuals return from the Games and just go insane. He'd seen it before, of course, because watching these Games was mandatory. You had to watch the fate of a fellow District member, family member, friend. But not only your own District, no, but other Districts. Their ages varying. You were eligible for the Hunger Games as soon as you turned twelve, your name would be thrown into one of those glass bowls, depending which gender you were. Male or female. Sure, your name is only thrown in once when you're twelve, but each year you grow older, your name will be entered once more than the previous year. At thirteen, the individual would have their named entered twice, fourteen; three times, fifteen; four times, all the way until you are eighteen, when your name is entered seven times. Each year, the people from any District is more likely to get chosen, but has the same chance as anyone else. One would almost be suprised to see how many twelve year olds are tossed into the games, only to have their life snatched up by someone with more experience, someone who was older, bigger and wiser than some little twelve year old boy or girl.

But this year, Captain's name was thrown in six times, being seventeen and never having done a Hunger Games before, he only knew what he saw on the screens. And he saw quite a lot.

Mayor Orbenkleine was finished reminding District 7 why the Hunger Games existed, but also brought up disasters. He walzted to the odd end of the stage, and stood there with his hands folded behind his back. Then the District 7 escort, Tair Andrade, walked to the podium, resting large hands on the smooth surface. His eyes stared out at his audience. He'd be taking the two District 7 Tributes to the Capitol, like he'd always done. His face was expressionless, extremly drawn out and tired. The suspense was building, but Tair wanted to get a good look at everyone. He would be pulling names from the glass bowls shortly... "We've had Tributes return before, so I have faith in any one name I pull from each bowl." Tair was successful in making some of District 7 feel a little more calm, or alright, but you had to have been inhuman to not be scared of having your name drawn. Tair pushed himself from the podium and wandered over to the woman's glass bowl and reached in with his right hand. His muscles flexed, and you could tell he lifted quite abit here in District 7. He was finely chiseled, but all he was, was an escort. His job was not teach to teach the Tributes from District 7, that was the mentors' jobs. And this years mentors were Osceroe Styner and Johanna Mason, both District 7 victors from previous Hunger Games.

Tair pulled out, and opened up a folded piece of paper and stared at the name before turning to all of District 7.

"Masque Styner, is our girl Tribute."


	2. Chapter 2

_**NOTICE !**_

I do not own _Johanna Mason, the Hunger Games, Catching Fire or Mockingjay!_ Let alone the _world of Panem, all 13 Districts and the concept/idea of the Hunger Games._

The _Hunger Games trilogy _and characters is property of _Suzanne Collins!_

Captain, Masque, and other names mentioned[ Such as the Twenty-Two other Tributes, Mayor Orbenkleine Tair, Osceroe, Jordy, Arik & Mallisomn, ], with the exception of _Johanna Mason_, are copyright to me, Writing Assassin!

* * *

><p>[ C h a p t e r 2 ]<p>

Masque Styner.

She was the daughter of the District 7 victor from before Captain's time. He had heard about her, here and there. She was thought highly of, everyone's money and trade was set on her for the Games. They wanted her to come back. Although there were no gasps, fellow District 7 individuals had widened their eyes, their jaws cracked slightly. _We might actually have a chance this year... _Masque was confident as she was escorted to the stone platform by some of the Capitol officials. Two behind her, and two on either side of her, it was precautionary. To make sure any Reaped Tribute would not run off. Masque was shorter than Captain, surely, and she appeared to be about his age, as well. But her arms were fairly toned, she may actually stand a chance. If her father was a past victor, then she had some experience and probably trained here and there, when she had the chance. Her hair dangled passed her shoulder blades, straight, silky. At least as silky and smooth compared to anyone else here in the Lumber District. She had medium brown hair with natural onyx and blonde streaks. It really complimented her, it could almost be described as the fine grain in professionally polished wood.

Mayor Orbenkleine helped Masque up onto the stage, climbing those steps in her dark brown dress seemed almost impossible. She wore black flats and a face that looked little bothered. In fact, she did not seem to mind being up there! Her father was seated toward the back of the stage with Johanna, and his expression never changed. He was not in the least surprised.  
>Tair then crossed the stage, to the other bowl where all the boys names were placed. Reaching in again, he repeated the same process with Masque's name. Staring long and hard at the piece of paper he plucked, "Mortius Vandsmorf, is our boy Tribute." All eyes turned toward the boy, who had to be plucked from the crowd. He could not have been any older than thirteen, and was putting up a fuss, yelling, "Me? Me? No, no! I'll die out there! I'll die!" He began to wail and flail his arms. The Capitol officials were trying to restrain him when Captain pushed forward. Because he was older, he was not pushed far to the back, in fact, he was lined up in the second row, behind the eighteen year olds, when he stood out in the middle of the complex.<p>

"I volunteer for Tribute!"

Captain stood fifteen feet ahead of the teenagers, and stared at Tair, whose deep brown hues found him. The officials paused in their tracks, and Mortius stopped his wailing, staring slack-jawed at Captain. Masque only stared down, her fingers fiddling with the faint frills on her dress. He could see her eyes now, and they were a beautful shade of bright, golden brown. The gold and black accents in her hair really made the eyes pop. The officials looked up at Tair for conformation and he nodded. They dropped Mortius and wandered toward Captain, "What's your name, boy?" Tair's voice boomed in Captain's general direction, but the boy had not flinched nor faltered away from the intimidating tone. Little was he frightened when the Capitol officials were standing mere feet from where he was, "Captain Tyson." The teenager spoke loudly enough, but the strength of his voice was none to compare to Tair's, "Our new District 7 boy Tribute is Captain Tyson." The escort spoke loud and clear again, as Captain made his way up onto the stage. The first thing he had done when he was settled beside Masque, was look down into the District 7 individuals and look for Shureshire. Her face pleaded, it was obvious she hadn't wanted Captain to go, but this had to be done. Jordy and Arik...They were not visible at all from the top of the stage. Too far back, "Is there anyone else who like to volunteer in the place of the already chosen Tributes...?" Tair asked, scanning the crowd with his dark eyes, Mortius is hiding his face in his shoulders, and to Captain, it looked as though he'd been crying.

After a short pause, Tair had given a careful nod, scanning the crowd nce more, "Then these are our District 7 Tributes. Masque Styner and Captain Tyson." Tair confirms, then begins to read a Treaty, a scripture which is mandatory to read at every Reaping. Every District must do this...  
>He could feel his stomach jump up into his throat now, and he felt like passing out. Tair motioned for the two District 7 Tributes to shake hands after reading the Treaty of Treason. Although Captain hesitated, the most he offered Masque was a tight sqeeze, barely a shake. More than likely because he was nervous, he was not fond of having to shake an opponents hand. <em>I'll have to kill her off anyways, I mean, if I don't die within the first ten minutes of the Game anyways... <em>The anthem for Panem began to play, the two Tributes standing quietly, orderly fashioned and balanced on stage. The cameras focused on them, and then the anthem faded.

Capitol officials began to lead Masque and Captain away, the crowd still dead silent. It was uncomfortable, the teenaged boy almost got the feeling that he would not be missed. After all, Masque was the victor's daughter, she had the upper hand, so it seemed. Easily, she could have out done Captain, only because the odds.

A large building had come into view, it was almost intimidating to Captain. Of course, he'd seen the Justice Building before, during other Games, but never has he seen it in the flesh. He'd never had to come down this way before, that, or he has never paid much mind to it. The structure was unlike anything Captain had witnessed first hand before, and this was where he would be staying until he and Masque were ready to head to the Capitol. The Tributes are lead inside, and Masque is escorted to one room, while Captain is taken to his own. The place did smell different, it felt different, and really did look different. Totally and completely not the surroundings Captain was use to being in. _Fancy... _The teenager thought to himself. It was dark, wooden flooring, with a rich, chocolatey carpet sprawled across the floor. Granted this was just a holding room, only temporary, so it was not that big. However, it did contain a single twin bed and a lounge chair with a small coffee table. The bed was draped with a nicely stitched comforter, and white as pearls bed sheets. Three pillows which were covered by red fabric. The lounge chair was a simple dak gray and silver embroidered fabric. Captain stands in the door way, which must be monitored on the other side, because he hadn't heard the familiar click of a door being locked. There was no doubt in Captain's mind that Tributes have tried to escape this place once or twice, and who could blame them?

Pushing himself away from the spot, Captain moved to make himself comfortable on the bed. He was feeling a bit off kilter, sick to his stomach. The pillows welcomed the boy's head with open arms, and he folded his hands across his abdomen. Staring up at the ceiling, which was decorated with a detailed mural. It was a lumber yard, trees climbed high above a mess hall, and off a ways was a creek. The painting was dark, but it was to show either sunrise, or sunset. Captain was too occupied mentally at the moment to depict which one. Let alone had he cared much. Silver eyes were then sheiled by exhausted lids, but deep inside, the teenager felt as though he could run for miles on end. The bed had such a comforting grasp that did not want to let him go, it seemed. He laid perfectly still, then the door opened almost silently. The only thing that told Captain he had a visitor was the light coming in from the hall and the footsteps. By the sound of it, it was either his mother, or Shurshire, "You're pretty ballsy, lumber boy." The door shut and the only thing illuminating the room was the sun shining through the cracks in the blinds, and the small table lamp set in a far off corner of the small room. He cracked open an eye to stare at her, before moving to sit on the edge of the bed, "For doin' what? Volunteering?" Captain spoke, offering a small chuckle as he extended both of his arms, intertwining his fingers and flexing them, causing them to crack and pop.

"Well, ya. I wouldn't have done that."

She approached the bed, but she was dressed in something quite different from what she was wearing this morning, when he was tending to Fresco. It was a black dress, with brown accents. it was beautful, and it clung to her body. It actually gave her a very femanine look, Captain liked it, even though he also found it a little awkward, "But that's you, Shire." The boy allowed his arms to dangle off his knees and he leaned forward, allowing onyx bangs; which were hardly at all long, to drape his forehead. Silver eyes followed the stitching in the deep brown rug. Shurshire leaned against the bed post and fiddled with the end of her dress, "I'd have just let Mortius go off, he deserved to be the boy Tribute, he got called. The kid's annoying anyways." She spoke honestly, her deep colored hues finding Captain as she rose a hand to twirl a curl that strayed from her head, "You're mean. I was going to volunteer for Tribute no matter who got their name pulled." Captain explained, averting a smile that melted soon after. The girl shrugged, and brought her focus to the room, "Ya, and I understand why, but this is a huge risk...I-I know I can't talk you out of it now, but...I just want you to do good, okay?" Shureshire was about to break into tears, but she was sucking them up, she was not about to cry. Captain also noticed this and moved to stand. he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a comforting embrace. She returned the gesture by wrapping her arms around the base of his neck. They were about the same height, Captain being slightly taller than Shire, but there was no struggle, "I'm going to do my absolute best, Shire. Don't you worry...I just wanna ask one thing of you." Captain pulled away slightly, just enought to get a good look at Shureshire's face, "Check up on my parents, alight? Make sure Mallisomn is okay. And, I know you don't like him, but visit Fres once in a while for me. Until I get home." He made it sound like he was going away for twelve years, when it would really only be a few weeks, or however long this Hunger Games will last for.

Shureshire gave a nod, and offered a smile, "I'll try to be nice to Fres." The girl reassured him, as he moved a hand to cup her jaw, his fingers barely touching the surface of the skin on her face. The door opened once more, and it must have been the guard that was supposed to be monitoring the room because he popped his head in, "Time's up, let's go." The older man called into the room, waving his hand, motioning for Shire to exit the room. She pulled away and only offered another smile, "Good luck, Cap. I'll be rootin' for ya'." She patted his chest gently before being hurried out of the room, which fell dead silent. The gut wrenching feeling quickly returned. Right now, he was almost regretting volunteering for the Games. He wanted to go back home, but understood it was too late. _Stupid, stupid me...Always putting others before myself...pft._

The door opened five minutes later and Arik had entered the room to find his son relaxing on the lounge chair. He was a strong man, and had faith in his son, but honestly, the old man was shocked when he heard Captain volunteer. Honestly, he was not expecting that... "Quite a surprise you pulled out there, Cap." Arik chuckled and approached his son, his hands folded behind his back as he moved across the room. Captain shrugged, "I had it planned for a little while...I wanted to do it for Mallisomn. If I can win the Games, we can get her some help and maybe she'll be alright." He looked up almost hopeful, rising brows in an innocent fashion. Arik was holding back his deep conern. Deep down, he wanted to scold Captain, but he was just scared, he didn't want to lose his son, "I'm happy you thought of your sister, Cap, but it's not your job, you don't have to throw your life away like that." Arik spoke, keeping his composure...barely. Captain offered a frown and averted his attention to the floor again, "I know...But this can benefit all of us." His voice was shallow, and regretting. Arik now having seated himself on the foot of the twin-sized bed, "But it was nothing you should have had to worry about." The older man answered, heaving a sigh as he combed his fingers through his dark brown locks, his own silver eyes being hidden behind tired lids. It was pretty much where Captain had received his eyes, his father. Bright silver orbs, popping out like pools of liquid iron or mercury.

"Anyways, it's a tradition to hand this down to the next family member that enters the Games. My father received it from his father who was one of the first to go in an earlier-on Game. This necklace just goes so far back you couldn't imagine...You need to carry it with you into this years Game."  
>Arik held out his hand, and in the palm was a silver laced chain necklace with a golden charm. It was an axe, and had the signature red tipped blade. Captain rose from the lounge chair and approached his father, reaching to grab the necklace with extreme delicacy. It was a sturdy chain, and the charm was big enough to be noticed. It was in pristine condition for its age. Captain smiled and moved to hug his father, "I'll wear it with pride, and I'll be extremely careful." He muttered reassuringly, holding the necklace behind his father, examining it. He could almost see everything in the reflection of the golden axe. Arik had said nothing, and only replied with a tight squeeze. By the subtle sniffles, Captain could tell his father was probably shedding tears. Of joy, or sadness, the teenager could not tell... "You've got another visitor..." The guard's words interjected the sentimental moment, but he was holding baby Mallisomn. Captain handed the necklace to his father after pulling away. Approaching the guard, he reached out for his baby sister, and wore the widest grin, "Your mother went home to clean up, she got spit up on but wanted you to at least see your sister." The guard explained, and Captain turned, walking away from the door which was gently shut by the guard.<p>

He made himself comfortable on the bed beside his father, craddling Mallisomn in gentle arms. The small coughs and whines she emitted made Captain want to shrink away, but it seemed to give him all the more motive to do his best in the Hunger Games, "I'm doing this for you, Mall, because I love you. I'm going to come home, and we're going to make you all better." He cooed softly to the child, who turned her head in reaction to the soothing vibrations that his voice emitted. Captain couldn't help but crack a small, sincere smile, one that was truly rare coming from this particular boy.  
>Mallisomn even seemed to find it in her weak, withering body to pull off a baby smile, reaching up a tiny hand to grab Captain's finger. Her grip was firm, as firm as a weak infant standing at two months could get. He found hope in his little sister. She was going to pull through this, he knew it. He slouched slightly to kiss her forehead, then the guard was telling everyone to leave. Hesitantly, he offered Mallisomn to his father, who exchanged the necklace for the fragile infant, "We're all cheering for you, Captain, don't lose faith in yourself, alright?" Arik looked back at Captain, who stood and only gave a faint nod as a response.<p>

Then everyone was gone...It was the last time he'd see them for only the Capitol knows how long...


	3. Chapter 3

_**NOTICE !**_

I do not own _Johanna Mason, the Hunger Games, Catching Fire or Mockingjay!_ Let alone the _world of Panem, all 13 Districts and the concept/idea of the Hunger Games._

The _Hunger Games trilogy _and characters is property of _Suzanne Collins!_

Captain, Masque, and other names mentioned[ Such as the Twenty-Two other Tributes, Mayor Orbenkleine, Tair, Osceroe, Jordy, Arik & Mallisomn, ], with the exception of _Johanna Mason_, are copyright to me, Writing Assassin!

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><p>[ C h a p t e r 3 ]<p>

Captain stared down at the necklace, running a thumb across the charm. It was smooth, it would be hard to believe that this little necklace had been through so many Hunger Games before Captain. Not a scratch on the surface. It was very well taken care of. It also represented his District. District 7 was the lumber District of Panem, and the loggers often used axes with the signature red-tipped blade to chop down the surrounding trees. Captain had gone back to when he chopped his first piece of wood. It was with his father's help, of course, because he was only around eight. And he hadn't used a giant axe like he did now, it was small. Considerably a hatchet, a smaller version of an axe. The wood wasn't big, either, and it wasn't getting chopped to be shipped from the lumber District. It was winter then, and they needed wood for the fire. He remembered the crunch of snow beneath his shoes, how cold he was, and seeing puffs of hot breath escape his nostrils and lips whenever he breathed out.

Arik set aside a piece of wood he'd splintered and helped Captain raise the hatchet. Granted it took a few minutes for the younger boy to chop it due to him being weak and never having chopped wood befoe. Oh, he was so thrilled! Look at him now, though. Taller, muscular, and perfect at chopping wood and hauling it back to the yard...

The door opened again, and since he'd pretty much seen everyone he wanted to see, he thought not of a visitor. It wasn't. The guard allowed the officials in to retrieve the boy. They were going from the Justice Building to the train...

Captain had ridden in waggons, so this ride was none different, with the exception of the fact this wagon had a cabin. The wagon was pulled by two black overo Gypsy Vanners. Possibly to make Masque and Captain look better while riding to the station. Usually vehicles were brought along to transport the Tributes from other Districts, but roads were lacking here, it was usually dirt path and sawdust or mulch, due to the lumber that was carried all over District 7. The dirt paths would be almost completely impassable with a car. It would get stuck, because the paths were uneven.

The teenaged boy couldn't help but start feeling a little queasy again, but it seemed to be growing progressively worse. He was almost happy they were seated in the back of a stagecoach. Captain rested his head against the window of the coach, hiding silver hues and clutching his stomach. It was nerves, to the extreme, he couldn't remember ever being this nervous, or ever being this sick. He was never nervous, so he didn't know how his body would react to such a feeling. It also had to do with the fact he had eaten nothing for breakfast, and only took a few sips of water before the Reaping that morning. Masque was staring at him, probably wondering what was wrong, but she'd never said a word. The cameras and the station came to view, as well as the steam engine. It was big, bold and black. Intimidating.

This was the end of the line, he knew it. As soon as he stepped foot into that train, there was no coming back to the somewhat peaceful place he knew and called home. Everything would change after the Hunger Games was done and over with. The stagecoach stopped, and the horses grunted and snorted. You could hear the chatter amongst the people awaiting Captain and Masque's arrival, cameras clicking and rolling, then the stagecoach's door was opened by the driver. The people were held at a distance by officials as the Tributes stepped out and approached the platform. It smelled of burning coal...Osceroe, Johanna and Tair emerged from further up the platform. They must have taken a different source of transportation. Masque and Captain were ushered toward the train, the doors sliding open automatically and a step popped out from the trains undercarriage, to make the step up easier for individuals that were shorter. Which, as opposed to other men, Captain was on the short side. But the step was not needed. For Masque, quite possibly.

Osceroe and Johanna stepped up into the train first, Tair, Masque and Captain had stood near the train and allowed the cameras to finish up their shots. The teenage boy's face twisted awkwardly when Masque stepped up into the locamotive, "You alright, boy?" Tair rose a brow and offered a look of concern, he was holding onto a bar that was placed there purposely, so one could easily haul themselves up. Captain gave no response, tears pricked his eyes and he might have gone a bit green in the face. His left hand groped for the side of the train, for assistance in holding himself up when he lurched forward involuntarily. Whatever he had for dinner the night before spewed from his mouth and absolutely drenched Tair's shoes. The audience that had little scattered gasped and continued snapping pictures and rolling the cameras. Tair threw up his hands, and wore the most disgusted face a man of his composure could muster.

Captain recoiled, he felt embarassed, blowing chunks while on camera, he was probably a laughing stock right now. Masque was barely in the train at this point, and turned around, as well as Johanna, looking down in shock at the scene. The women had to hold back their giggles, both putting their hands to their mouths when the initial shock had left their being, "I-I-I..." Captain struggled, he wanted to apologize, but he wasn't sure how. His jaw quivered faintly due to the small muscle spasms in his lower jaw, reacting to what had just happened. His mouth cracked slightly, and there was no doubt that some of the regurgitated food and stomach acid stuck to his chin. Tair motioned for Captain to climb aboard the locamotive, "Just go..." The man sounded aggitated, but he was also trying to keep his character. Serious, uncaring. _Expressionless.  
><em>

Johanna and Masque moved away when Captain climbed up into the train, and instantly went to search for a restroom. Luckily, he ran into Mr. Styner who gladly helped him find the nearest one.

"That. That was disgusting."

Masque commented, pointing down the small corridor. Johanna nodded, agreeing completely, "Absolutely." She couldn't help but release a small chuckle and make herself comfortable on the nearest piece of furniture, which turned out to be a black leather couch, rested upon a deep red carpet. The train floor was crafted with wood panel flooring. Deep, dark oak, it appeared. The grain especially brought out by the high gloss polish and silver crowning the walls provided.

When Captain emerged from the restroom with Osceroe, he caught Masque and Johanna conversing with one another. Johanna still seated on the black leather couch, her legs were kicked up on the coffee table just mere feet away from the sofa, and her arms were extended across the support of the furniture. Masque was seated on the opposite side of the L-shaped couch, however, was laying horizontally with her hands folded across her abdomen, her head rested on a brown show pillow, brown hair draped over her shoulder, legs crossed and all. She looked as though she already owned the place. _Huh, women... _The two looked in his general direction and Captain stopped in his tracks, rising a brow at them both, "What?" His voice was stern, was he really something to look at? Then again, he was making it some issue because he still felt sick and was rather embarassed by his arrival. Johanna bent her arm at the elbow and pressed her clenched hand to her head, "Geeze, what crawled up your pants and bit you in the ass? Calm down." She commented, turning her attention to Masque, who could only praise Johanna's comment. Her bright golden brown eyes looked at Captain, "Yeah, chill." She added, Captain rolling his eyes in response. _I'm not even going to start. Save it for the arena, Cap, save it for the arena. _He walked away and found Tair emerging from the opposite end of the train. He was clad in sleek black pants now, and was waddling around barefoot. Sure, he may have been an escort, but his socks were practically worn and had holes near the toes. Definitely not presentable. He had changed his entire outfit. Now wearing a nice gray suit, accented with vertical silver pin stripes, a white under shirt beneath it all.

"I'm sorry, sir, I really am, I was just so nervous and I-"

Tair ceased the boy's babbling by holding a palm up in his direction, "It's alright." His voice was naturally bold, but he had shown no sincerity at all. Naturally a serious man, it seemed. Tair dismissed himself and walked in the direction Captain had come from. Looking over his shoulder at the escort, the boy could only scrunch his nose and continue down the hall. He was searching for his own room. Really, he needed to relax for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

_**NOTICE !**_

I do not own _Johanna Mason, the Hunger Games, Catching Fire or Mockingjay!_ Let alone the _world of Panem, all 13 Districts and the concept/idea of the Hunger Games._

The _Hunger Games trilogy _and characters is property of _Suzanne Collins!_

Captain, Masque, and other names mentioned[ Such as the Twenty-Two other Tributes, Mayor Orbenkleine, Tair, Osceroe, Jordy, Arik & Mallisomn, ], with the exception of _Johanna Mason_, are copyright to me, Writing Assassin!

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><p>[ C h a p t e r 4 ]<p>

It took Captain a while to find his room, after having found Tair's, Johanna's, Masque's and everybody elses room. He was settled on the bed, awake. He couldn't find himself napping. Anxious, however, his stomach had calmed down. The boy wasn't feeling so sick anymore. Which was fantastic! But he was still hungry, and his stomach growled. Osceroe knocked twice on the wooden door before pushing it open. _What was the pupose of that...? Why knock if you're going to barge in anyway? _"They're getting ready to serve lunch, Captain. Wash up and join us." He offered a warm smile, and Captain nodded, replying with an, "Okay." before Osceroe shut the door and walked away. It took the teenager time to find motivation to climb out of bed, with it being as comfortable as it was, unlike his bed at home. It was merely a bunk with a thin mattress set on top. Similar to a cot. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he bent down to put his boots back on, tying them securely to his feet before pushing himself up and stretching.

Captain found himself looking out the window, a long, horizontal lying pane that was no more than three feet tall. The sun had already reached the peak of the day, but was slowly moving to the opposite side of Panem. It wasn't the sun he was looking at, however. It was the mountains he was focusing on. He was unsure of where he was at the moment, where the train was. But the view outside the window was beautiful. Sure, he'd seen mountains from his bedroom, but this was a gorgeous scene to the boy...

After cleaning himself up, washing his hands and cleansing his face, he was quite pleased the taste of _vomit_ was no longer present in his mouth. Captain wandered out and down the hall, searching for the dining room which he stumbled upon accidently. There was quite an array of food stretched out across a long table. Everything from chicken to soup, bread and butter to cheese and salad. Surely the boy's eyes were wide, he'd never seen so much food in his life. Osceroe, Tair, Masque and Johanna were already seated and already had food on their plates. There was an empty seat beside Mr. Styner, and that was the seat Captain decided to take. He grabbed and picked his own food, filling his plate completely, it almost overflowed! Everyone else had a generous serving, making Captain appear greedy. He was receiving odd looks from Johanna and Masque, "Are you really going to eat all of that?" Masque commented, pointing to the food on his plate. The boy looked down before turning silver eyes to the teenaged girl, "Yeah." His answer was very straightforward and direct. Masque shrugged, "Alright." She said before lifting a piece of char grilled chicken to her mouth, biting into the white meat, as if it was nothing.

He had to remember, her father was a victor from an earlier Hunger Games, and she'd been living the posh life in the District 7 Victor Village, with enough to eat, she hadn't needed to care before, she'd always known there would be food in front of her. Which may pose as a weakness for her in the arena, as she would have to scavange for food and shelter, which was always provided for her. Of course, the others had eaten with such decency, even using forks to pull apart the chicken. Captain had dug in, and compared to the rest of the table, he was eating like some savage. It was not Captain's fault, however. He didn't have breakfast.

Once the meal was over and everything was cleared from the table, everyone huddled up into a room that was rather expansive for a train. There was one long couch and it hugged the corner of the room in a wide half moon shape. It was light gray fabric, and was extremely comfortable. Everything on this train was. It almost made Captain forget he was heading to such a cruel place. Captain, Masque, Tair, Johanna and Osceroe all watched the Reapings on a large telescreen that was mounted into the opposite wall of the couch. Long speakers and surround set up made the audience feel like they were actually there again. The Tributes and Reapings were shown in order, from District 1, to District 12. You could tell what the economic structure was in each of the districts, plainly telling by the clothing they wore to their Reapings. District 1, of course, had flashy ensambles, whereas kids and teenagers from District 11 or 12 had not so flashy clothing, rather drab.

District 7 came pretty quickly, and it seemed Mortius had gotten quite the attention. The cameras zoomed in on the strawberry blonde boy who was practically in tears when his name was called. And the expression the poor kid wore. Captain watched as his voice and face appeared on the screen. This was practically the only Reaping he was curious about, watching his all too serious face. Even there, he thought he looked a little pale. Johanna and Masque appeared to notice and of course, had to make a comment, "You looked pale as a ghost, Captain! I've gotta give you kudos, though. Not a lot of people willingly volunteer for no reason." Johanna said, averting her attention back to the large telescreen. _None that you're aware of... _The boy gave her a glance and furrowed his brows. What did she know, anyways? Of course everything, it was her and Osceroe who would be teaching them both how to survive, or at least helping them with tips and strategies they'd taken in the Games, "I like your dress, by the way!" Johanna commented off the top of her head, turning to Masque who smiled sweetly, "Aw, thanks, it was my sister's dress." She replied, turning her eyes to the dress and stroking the silken cloth, "Ya? Well it's very nice." The older teenager repeated once more before turning her eyes back to the television. Oesceroe was looking at Johanna now, a displeased expression written across his face, and Masque looked uncomforable. Captain hadn't asked. Instead, he shifted his legs, so now his right leg was stuck outward, and his left was hugging the base of the couch.

The Reapings ended soon after that and the television was shut off after the Panem anthem played. It seemed the only real disruption that happened during the Reaings took place in District 7 with Mortius. More than likely everyone else was scared to act out in such a fashion. Instead, took what they were given and had no sense in thinking to go against what was done fairly. Captain still found this whole Hunger Games deal to be a waste of time, he did not get it. _Why? Why the need to kill to keep people from rebelling? If anything, wouldn't it just cause a rebellion or acts of riots across the nation of Panem if the right people were drawn for Tribute? I'll never get the Capitol's ways... _Captain pushed himself from the couch, since everyone appears to be engaged in some conversation with one another. Johanna and Masque, then Osceroe then Mr. Serious-Face, Tair. The conversation between both men, however, is interupted when the teenaged boy gets up, "Where you going?" Osceroe turns to look up at Captain, who gave a shrug.

"My room?"

He wasn't so sure he was allowed to leave now. Masque turns her attention to Captain then, her short, brown locks whipping over her shoulder she switched direction so fast. Then gave the tilt of her head, questioningly, "Why?" At this point, the boy felt like it would have caused less trouble to just sit back down and be with the rest of his..._friends. _Silver eyes found the ground before they were brought to Masque, "Can't a guy just go to his own room without being questioned? Damn..." He muttered a reply, and Masque frowns, then Johanna had just turned her glare to Captain, "Won't you just calm the hell down? You know, you didn't have to volunteer! You could have let that other boy go into the Games, so don't get pissed at all of us because of some decision you made." Johanna crossed her arms over her chest, kicked out both legs and pushed her back against the sofa. Captain was confused, dropping his tensed shoulders and looking awardly at the older teenager, "What? That has nothing to do with it! There's nothing playing anymore and I just wanna go to my room, is that so hard to get?" He had to refrain from yelling now. It was stress building up over the nervousness. Then he was reminded, he was disrespecting one of the two people who would be organizing him once they reached the Capitol. Johanna had opened her mouth to say something, but Captain interjected before any word slipped passed her lips, "Sorry." He was apologizing, because he'd realized he had shown little kindness to anyone except for the one who intimidated him, which was Tair. He didn't know why he didn't like Johanna, maybe because it appeared her and Masque seemed to have bonded so quickly. She was almost like an enemy, he wasn't going to get attached to her because he'd have to end up killing her at some point, if someone else hadn't killed her first, or killed im before he had the chance to do so.

The boy didn't even look over his shoulder before he waltzed out of the sitting room. Captain was also under a lot of pressure. He had to kill twenty-three other Tributes before they killed him in order to save his baby sister's life. It wasn't between his own life and death, this also was a matter of Mallisomn's life and death. He loved her, if there was such thing as unconditional love, Captain felt it with his newborn sister. He didn't want to lose her, it would break him. He also already missed Shureshire, he regret not kissing her despite the guard's intruding and breaking them up.

When he reached his room, Captain kicked off his shoes and laid in bed again, laying on his side facing the wall opposite to the door. Then began to faintly wonder what they were doing, his mom, his dad, Mallisomn and Shureshire. He hoped they would be okay, Shire would make sure of that, for sure.


End file.
